Humble Pie
by JWood201
Summary: Mary Ann concocts a congratulatory gift for the new President. Happy Birthday, Teobi! Season 1, during "President Gilligan."


**Humble Pie**

_A quick throwback to my older stories that fit into certain episodes. It's a little rough, but it feels good to flex the writing muscles again. I mentioned in one of my older stories that the first coconut cream pie appeared as a congratulatory present after the election. This story goes with that idea._

_This story is meant as a very happy birthday present to my friend, Teobi – a hilarious person, a great friend, and a truly talented writer. I hope this brightens your day. :)_

_Season 1, during "President Gilligan." Takes place directly after the scene in which Gilligan asks Ginger for help and knocks himself out for the second time._

* * *

Gilligan trudged through the clearing, gently rubbing the side of his head where he'd smacked it into the bamboo post for the second time that day. He dragged his shovel along behind him, dejectedly hollowing a lonely wavy trench in the sand in his wake.

When he picked himself up off the floor of the hut, Ginger had disappeared. _She's probably washing her hair again_, he had thought grumpily. For a society facing a water shortage she sure did use up her share of the precious substance. And probably his, too. And maybe even the Skipper's.

He had struck out with the Skipper, Mr. Howell, and with Ginger, although why he went to the latter for help he still isn't sure. As the Secretary of Health and Welfare, he had assumed she would be interested in, well, the health and welfare of her fellow castaways. How naïve he had been.

He'd thought that as President the others would be obligated to listen to him, but nothing had changed. Everyone still walked all over him and did whatever they wanted anyway. He wondered if they would be acting this way if the Skipper or Mr. Howell had been elected.

Gilligan harrumphed to himself and slogged through the sand toward the path to the lagoon. He kept his head down, watching his sneakers slide through the course granules. Too miserable to pick up his feet, he began making three trenches in the sand.

"Good afternoon, Mr. President!"

The cheerful voice stopped him in his tracks. He lifted his head and shielded his eyes against the harsh midday sun. Mary Ann materialized out of the light, appearing across the communal table from him. She cradled a bowl in her right arm and was stirring its contents vigorously.

"Oh. I see you're not working either," he grumbled. Gilligan didn't notice the smile slide off her face as he turned to continue on his way.

He heard the bowl land heavily on the table before he heard her speak. "As a matter of fact, I am, Mr. President." Gilligan stopped again and sighed. He knew from the tone of her voice that her hands were firmly planted on her hips.

"I'm sorry, Mary Ann. It's just –."

"As Secretary of Agriculture," she continued, undeterred, determined to make her point, "it's my duty to make sure the food supply is well stocked and fresh. It just so happens that these coconuts were about to go bad, so I needed to use them before they went to waste." Gilligan noticed that when she glared at him her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "The first pie is almost cool enough to cut," she continued, in a slightly softer tone. He didn't move and her hands slid off her hips. "Sit down, Gilligan," she added quietly.

Gilligan plopped unceremoniously onto the bench opposite her, letting the shovel fall somewhere behind him in the sand. He crossed his arms on the table in front of him and laid his chin on his hands as he watched her work. Mary Ann added an unidentified ingredient to the bowl and tucked it in the crook of her arm again. Gilligan watched her long brunette braid swing from side to side behind her head as she ardently began stirring the batter again. She struggled with the thick substance; she bit her lip and her cheeks flushed as she worked. Gilligan watched as the sun outlined her head in a beautiful halo, making the mundane and plain task at hand glow with ethereal brilliance.

Gilligan's head suddenly snapped up. "Wait. Did you say pie?"

Mary Ann laughed. "Yes, I did." She poured the batter into one of the tin plates from the Minnow, which was already lined with a rudimentary crust she had baked over their cook fire.

"But how…?"

Mary Ann smirked. "I have my ways." She moved into the trees and placed the makeshift pie plate on a large flat rock in the shade to chill. It was the coldest place nearby and the rock was covered with moist green moss. Mary Ann surrounded the pie plate with water pouches filled with the coldest water she could collect from the waterfall. She reappeared with a completed pie and placed it on the table in front of Gilligan's huge eyes. "For you."

"Me?" he squeaked.

Mary Ann sat down across from him and laid her cheek in her palm. "It was supposed to be a congratulatory pie, but … I hear you had a rough day at the office."

Gilligan studied it like it was a work of art. White whipped peaks rising into the air, golden crust perfectly pinched and shaped. Mary Ann pushed the knife across the table at him. "Go ahead."

"What kind is it?" he asked, cocking his head as if seeing it from another angle would debunk the mystery.

"On this island? Coconut cream." Gilligan's eyes widened even more. "I want to try banana next," she added in a conspiratorial whisper and she thought he might faint from excitement. "Go on."

Gilligan pulled the pie closer and spun it around a few times, looking for the perfect place to mar the beautiful creation with the first cut. He suddenly paused, the knife hovering just over one of the white peaks.

"What's the matter?"

Gilligan put the knife down and stared into the depths of the whipped topping. It looked like a tiny perfect mountain range, covered in snow and frost. He imagined a tiny wagon train trapped between the peaks, unable to move forward or back, expected to do great things but with no possible recourse and destined for failure.

"Why did you vote for me?" he asked quietly.

He heard Mary Ann exhale sadly from across the table. "Oh, Gilligan."

"I mean, I know why Mrs. Howell voted for me. She wanted Mr. Howell to lose so he'd spend time with her. And I voted for myself so I wouldn't get in trouble with anyone. But I don't know why you voted for me."

"Because I thought you'd do a good job." Gilligan raised his head and eyed her dubiously. "I mean it, Gilligan. A president needs to put his people first, not argue about who's richer or stronger or more powerful. It would've ended badly if the Skipper or Mr. Howell had won."

"What about the Professor?"

"What about him? He's brilliant, but … you know what Mr. Howell says …" Mary Ann glanced quickly behind her and then leaned forward. "Those eggheads – all think, no do."

Gilligan's eyebrows shot up and he looked around the clearing. Assured that they were quite alone and that the Professor hadn't heard her, he let out a laugh and quickly covered his mouth.

Mary Ann giggled. "I'm serious, Gilligan. You have a good heart and you put others first and that's why I …" Mary Ann glanced down at the table and seemed to swallow a thought. She then reached across the table and squeezed his hand briefly. "You have good ideas. Go tell them."

Gilligan shrugged. "They don't listen."

"So show them. Go dig the well."

"What if there's no water?"

"There will be." Mary Ann held up a fork. "I'm behind you all the way, Mr. President." Gilligan held out his own fork and they clinked them together in a toast. "Now cut this pie before it melts," she added, pushing the knife toward him again.

Gilligan slowly, almost reverently, slid the knife through the mountain range and cut a perfect piece from the pie. He placed it on a plate and slid it across the table to Mary Ann. She opened her mouth to object, but settled instead on smiling at him as he cut a slice for himself, tongue poking out of the side of his mouth in concentration.

"I have no idea how it'll taste," Mary Ann said. "I had to fudge a few things and I don't know if it got cold enough to set, but – what?" Mary Ann paused and peered at Gilligan, wide-eyed. He was sitting completely still, eyes closed, gripping the edge of the table.

"Oh my gosh," he mumbled around a mouthful of pie.

Mary Ann deflated. "I'm sorry. I –."

"This is amazing," he murmured, potentially on the verge of a religious enlightenment.

"What?"

"It's _amazing_," he groaned in a way that made her suddenly embarrassed, but she wasn't quite sure why.

"Really?"

Gilligan nodded emphatically as he shoveled forkfuls of pie into his mouth, barely pausing to breathe. "You're the best." Mary Ann's face split into a brilliant grin. "_Mary Ann's pie is delicious!" _ he suddenly hollered and her eyes widened.

"Gilligan, stop shouting!"

"Mary Ann's pie is the best pie in the whole wide world and it's _all mine_ and I don't care who knows it!" Mary Ann suddenly snatched the pie plate off the table and he gasped. "I'm sorry! I just –!"

Mary Ann stepped up onto the bench and then onto the top of the communal table. Gilligan stared up at her in a mixture of awe and fear. She held the pie plate aloft and declared for all the world to hear: "I voted for William Gilligan for president of this island!"

"What are you doing?"

"He won fair and square! I believe him to be the best man for the job. He's kind and smart and we should listen to him. He leads by example. This pie is for him and him only!" Mary Ann stepped down onto the bench beside him and sat down on the table next to his plate. She put the pie back on the table and he glanced at it only briefly before looking up at her again in shock. She leaned forward and peered sincerely into his eyes. "Go dig the well. Get them their water and then see what they have to say about you."

Mary Ann hoped that he'd not only remember her next statement from earlier that day, but would also be astute enough to attach more worth to it later. She wanted him to roll it around in his head as he lie in his hammock at night. She wanted it to keep him up at night. She wanted it to sneak up on him as he went about his day and make him pause with thought. She wanted it to stay with him for as long as it took.

Mary Ann smiled at him and he knew that whatever she said next would hold far greater significance than it seemed in this moment.

"Gilligan is my man, too."


End file.
